Desperation
by Mel like Mellow
Summary: Vegeta/Bulma. "He hopes that picking this particular scab might satisfy him and his anxieties, if only temporarily."
1. Chapter 1

**Desperation**

_i still fight while i can fight_

Vegeta grits his teeth.

There has been an array of things gone wrong in his life as of late. Every day he seems to slip a little bit further in his training. Every day he goes over and over a mental checklist of the differences between he and Kakarotto, their parallels, where one might be lacking where the other one thrives, and every day he comes up with inconclusive results.

Every day his head throbs harder and harder over the many troubles that plague him - one of whom is taking her sweet time correcting an error on a half-assed machine she should've built right the first, second, and third time.

The bile rises upon the back of his tongue as he watches her sashay about the console in one of her despicable little outfit, her tight blue curls beginning to unwind about her shoulders as they grow longer and heavy. Just now, he's almost too keenly aware of the single droplet that's starting to ease its way down the back of her thigh and into the crook of her knee.

He's not an idiot. He knows what this could wind up meaning. But he's beginning to hedge on desperate. He needs to fix this – fix himself, because he's certain he's broken - and what other routes could be taken? There's only this one he sees, paved in blue, and it fills him with the utmost apprehension and dread to consider such madness, but it's there.

She's babbling something at him now and it echoes in the space around them; it's this filter of annoying nonsense as though a gnat is trapped in his ear. His arms fold tighter as she bends at the waist, and he decides quickly.

It takes three long strides for him to reach her side and Bulma spins immediately, her mouth flown open in surprise at his sudden closeness. Her eyebrows narrow at his hand gripping at her arm, and she snarls and pushes half-heartedly with an elbow at his rib. "What the hell are you doing? Let go of me, Vegeta."

"Your presence infuriates me, onna," he tells her in a low and even tone, his face near enough to map out the pink blotches spreading slowly in her cheeks.

"Then maybe you should find some other gorgeous billionairess to mooch off and feel up?" She tugs her arm, but he does not concede. His grip only tightens. "Ohh, c'mon! I'm sure there are plenty of others out there who would love to take in a freeloader with your candor!"

He seethes and inches his face closer, threatening her with his nearness, and she offers up a saccharine smile in repartee.

This is a game of chicken they've been playing since about week three of his stay. But since the early part of his second year in this realm, he's felt it fester gradually into something else; something terrible and ugly, something that could potentially ruin everything he has strived for all these years. And it is something he absolutely cannot abide anymore.

He hopes that picking this particular scab might satisfy him and his anxieties, if only temporarily.

His silence and unwavering stare unnerves her, he can tell. Bulma swallows, flushes, and pulls from him again. "What are you-"

He can't stand the sound of her. His dominant hand behind her head forces her forward almost violently and she yelps, and his mouth burns agonizingly so at the soft warmth of her lips.

Yes, it must be a virus making him sick and weak, but God, he prays this is the cure.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Another drabble for the deviantART group DBZ-Fanfics. The theme for June's contest was Taking Risks, and - duh - the first "risk" that popped into my mind was Vegeta pursuing Bulma. Which I figure was a pretty huge effing risk for him and he was probably at the end of his rope when he made such a decision. ;P


	2. Chapter 2

**Desperation**

_as long as the wrong feels right, it's like i'm in flight_

He watches her diligently from the window high up in the complex. She's easy to spot in the yard, a thrush of blue in a world of green, her face proud and tilted up to the sun as she lounges by the man-made pond. She's bathing in the daylight, and it's hypnotizing, and he really can't help but hate her bit by bit for making his stomach churn in this agonizing way.

Her every moment is caught by his dedicated eye these days. A shift of her hips, a flick of her wrist; Vegeta is almost unnaturally attentive to her nuance. He supposes that's his own fault, letting himself find that place in her and with her – a pause for weakness, one he is not particularly proud of.

It did not yield the effective consequences he had anticipated. Instead, he was rewarded with this nagging necessity, annoyance, confusion, and frustration.

She rises from the lounger and cants her head in the direction where he knows his training facility is located. The possibility that she's considering him brings a smirk to his face and sends a ripple down his spine; it should be expected, of course. But on second thought, there's no reason it should, and he gruffly stomps from the window before he can note her careful glance up the wall toward his perch.

**xxx**

He'd rather a quicker, more dignifying means of death if he could find it anywhere else.

That's when the decision to leave comes, as she's huffing jagged breaths against the shell of his ear and the delicate feel of her surrounding him almost brings tears of shame to his eyes. Her hair is like silk against his collar and his attention to such an inconsequential detail, and the fact that these extended periods of closeness are bordering on intimate – he absolutely can't do this. Not with this woman.

The thought alone makes him nauseous, and Vegeta digs his fingertips roughly into her hips and he tips her off his torso. The loss of her is immediate, and he burns at the recognition of it. He can't be doing this.

Bulma gripes in high tones and rolls over on her side. He tells her to leave. She flips him the universal sign to fuck himself then settles deeper into his pillow with a soft sigh that makes him clench his fists. The woman's been determined to bunk with him since they began these midnight rendezvous, and he has always turned her away before the satisfying ache in his bones had dissipated. This evening should be no different.

He presses up from the bed and pads across to the bathroom without a word. He avoids his reflection, washes his hands, and he counts the moments before she vacates his space.

Yet when the doors part again, he finds her still recumbent, tangled up in his damp sheets. She looks fair and otherworldly under the sliver of moonlight that slips through his single side window, and his feet can't carry him from the room fast enough.

* * *

**Author's Note:** ... okay, so I found this song off Eminem's new album. It's called "Love The Way You Lie" and talk about inspiration! The moment I heard it, I typed this little diddy up. So yeah, I know it was originally was supposed to be a one-shot, but it looks like that's changing. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Desperation**

_just gonna stand there and hear me cry_

Anger is too simple a word to describe it. It burns ferociously under her skin, stings in the corner of her eyes, and it tastes salty in her mouth. It hurts in the worst kind of way and her chest feel like caving in.

Bulma pitches the stick into the garbage can. The plastic bag crinkles and she hiccups a sob, her face screwed up, as all her world dissolves into a stupid pink plus sign.

What did she think she was doing? What did she think was going to happen? She's the most brilliant woman in the world, she's forgotten more inventions than most top scientists have created in a lifetime, she's been to space and back, she's saved the world, and yet she can't fathom how she ignored the basics of the original complexity of life.

Ignorance, bliss. She sneers at herself and pushes her hands through her unraveling blue mane, cradles her face in her hands and squints through flowing tears at the tile under her bare feet. It was stupid. So stupid. To believe she was invincible; she's so used to escaping unimaginable dangers unscathed, huge titan heroes saving her at every turn, always another step ahead of the game. Could she really have convinced herself she was just as indomitable?

Bulma wonders if he knew. It's been weeks since he took off that evening. She's sure he thought she didn't know – but she was well aware of his hastily padding feet, the roar of the engines from the lawn below, and the immediate press of his distancing power. Is that why he ran away under cover of darkness? In all her years of knowing him, she can't imagine Vegeta running from much of anything. Though she must admit, if she had the chance to escape from any of the numerous obstacles she's encountered in her life, this (by far) would be the one she would choose to run from first.

She slides her hand over her smooth stomach and quivers a sigh. But there'd be no running from this. As she gets up from the bath tub's rim, Bulma thinks of Son-kun and her countless friends. How many challenges they've faced, infinitely worse than the kind she's unwittingly stumbled into – and they stared them valiantly in the face, stood their ground.

Stepping over to the mirror, she heaves another shaky breath and runs the pad of her thumb under each eye, smearing away trails of black that have collected there. She sniffles and fixates her gaze on her middle.

Only one of them had the luxury of evading this situation – and it certainly was not her. She'd have to be braver, now. With a set chin, she nods at her reflection.

"Heroes don't run away."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, so, I don't know WHERE the hell this came from. Seriously. But I figured it applied to this story (which I have no idea where I'm going with it) so I slapped it up here. We'll see how it works out. And, obviously, this is Bulma finding out she's pregnant. I've always been a believer that Vegeta got outta dodge BEFORE Bulma found out she was pregant, and that he didn't come back until a few weeks before the beginning of the Android Saga. Which, if I ever finish this story, I'll try and illustrate.

Who knows, maybe this will be my prequel to "It Was"! :P


End file.
